Legend
by Aiffe
Summary: Midoriko's passion shaped the world, and the hearts of those who live in it. Sesshoumaru had no way of knowing his lover would become a legend.
1. Death Wish

Disclaimer: Diabolus fecit, ut id facerem. (The Devil made me do it.)

Warnings: If you've read my PG-13 fics, you know I tend toward the upper end of the ratings system. This is a pretty hard R. Violence, death, dismemberment, sex, rough sex, more sex, non-con, **INCEST**, (not Sesshoumaru/Inuyasha or Sango/Kohaku, I promise) dark themes, coarse suggestive language. Everything but drug use, unless you count the drugs I was on when I wrote this. (Kidding, I swear!) But seriously. This should not be read by anyone under the age of 17. Or just take that last part out. This shouldn't be read by ANYONE. But I know you're gonna anyway, so have fun, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Note on characterization: Wow, you're really trusting me, reading a Midoriko/Sesshoumaru fic, considering the Mary-Sue possibilities in that one. Midoriko doesn't really have an official characterization, because she's only in one episode, and even in that, she doesn't get a line, what with being dead and all. So I thought on what it is to be a pure warrior, to be powerful, and kill, and not lose your heart. I also modeled her somewhat after Sango, though not very much. So Midoriko is probably very different in this fic than you're used to seeing her, but I actually was trying to be faithful to the story.

Sesshoumaru would be OOC, if he was in the time frame the main story takes place. But he is not, he's very young in this. So his character will make more and more sense as the story goes on. I know this is a long one, but try to bear with me.

On to Part One—

* * *

I entreat you

not with griefs and bitternesses to break my

spirit, O goddess;

I beg you

please don't hurt me, don't overcome my spirit,

goddess, with longing...

Cold sweat rushes down me,

trembling seizes me,

I am greener than grass,

to myself I seem

needing but little to die.

-Sappho

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She is angry again.

She was always unstoppable, anyway. When she loved, or grieved, or raged, it was always with all her heart. Sesshoumaru has had to redefine purity several times since he's known her. Once he saw her find demons over mangled human corpses, and her power made them pure, though it killed some of them. The survivors she killed anyway, in a blind rage, without remorse.

So now, when Midoriko is angry, he should be afraid. She is pounding her fists on his chest, past grasping words, but growling at him through her teeth, not a dog's growl, but a human one, that is half moaning howl. Sesshoumaru growls back at her, and his growl is not human, but it intimidates her about as much as a puppy would. If he were human, his bones would be cracking, as it is he will bruise. He does not resist, but he continues to answer her growl, if only to show that he understands.

There are two ways this can end, he knows. One has happened before. The other is that she kills him. So when her lips find his, hot and needy, she is giving him his life. He is grateful, and kisses back. She always goes too fast for him when she's like this, which is unexpected, considering he is young, and a demon. Caresses infuriate her, and when she does kiss, she's so rough he tastes blood, surprisingly, it's usually hers. She touches him only long enough to get him hard, and then she rides him, her shuddering growls transmuting into something no less furious, but full of primal satisfaction.

He suspects she would make the same sound if she chose to kill him instead.

Afterwards, she sleeps like a dead thing, so lost to the world that sometimes he tickles her feet, or piles objects on her, and she doesn't stir. He has to cover her if it is cold, or she won't wake until she's stiff and bluish. Once or twice, he has left her like that anyway, just to see her a little more vulnerable. If she knows it was intentional, she says nothing.

He waits for her this time, because this is as good a place as any other to sit and think. He wonders if she dreams intensely, or if she dreams at all. She never tells him, maybe it's because she dreams of him, he considers. But then, he never asks her directly.

When she wakes, she is sane and silent, she slips into his embrace, smelling like old tears and dried sweat and sex with him. She looks at his bruises as if wondering where he got them, and kisses them, very gently, the way only she can. His skin is marked with new red stripes, she sees them, but not the blood dried under her fingernails. He wears them like battle scars, like medals, like the brands given to criminals. The ones on his torso he can cover, a secret stinging in his skin under the front he presents the world, but the ones on his face, bled unchecked and dried, are for the world to see and condemn.

"Why?" she whispers. Her voice is still beautiful to him, but it's hoarse from screaming. "Every time, I try, but you always..."

His gaze eludes her. His soul eludes her. He isn't pure, he isn't nice, she can throw her legs around him and fuck him, but she can't make him hers.

"I don't believe in humans," he says, and means it. Not that he doesn't believe in their existence, but in their power. Humans are weak, and helpless, he could go through an entire village, and when he'd killed the last man, the blood from the first would still be warm on his hands. Where others see in Midoriko such power and determination and _purity_, he sees only a brash, emotionally incontinent girl who's good with a sword. She could kill him. But she can't change him.

She ties her armor on, deftly avoiding him. Sesshoumaru doesn't wear armor, he thinks he's too fast to need it, and that it gets in his way. His parents call him a young punk for this, but he is eleven years older than Midoriko, and she wears armor, though her reasons for it are different. She likes jumping straight into the fray recklessly, and if not for her armor, would be dead several times over. Sesshoumaru doesn't join her fight, she keeps him as her secret, though he can't hide her from his family, not scratched and bruised and covered in her scent like he is. But he does like to watch from afar, that ferocity, that courage which is stupid and brave and beautiful, her scent half masked by demon gore.

"I should," she says at length, "be able to make you believe. My power is truth."

He wonders how she says things like that with a straight face. Even in his short life, he is certain there are no constants in this world, except maybe that we will always make mistakes, and they are likely to be the same ones. So when he says, "The best weapon against truth is ignorance," he is mocking her. He thinks he already knows the truth. But then, isn't that what ignorance is?

A few dead leaves skitter along the ground, making Midoriko jump, though she stops her hand halfway to her sword. It's the weather, Sesshoumaru thinks, it has her on edge. It is late autumn, and it seems the world can't quite decide if it wants to hold on to summer a little longer, or plunge headfirst into winter. The trees reflect this, some are still green, wilting around the edges, while others surrendered their leaves at the first frost. Everyone else seems to think this gentle weather is a reprieve, but Midoriko likes the blinding blaze of heat, as well as the dead freeze, she likes to battle against the elements and win, coming out chapped and rough and victorious, because it's something no one else can stand, but she's stronger than them, so she has the advantage. Now she's waiting, which is her least favorite thing to do. Sesshoumaru couldn't care less about the weather, but he likes watching _her_, vicariously enjoying that passion for life that he shares, but never had anyone worth showing it to. Secretly, he thinks there's something loose about showing your feelings to anyone and everyone, not caring if there isn't even anyone there to see, but then, that's what he likes about her. She comes undone for him in ways he doesn't dare do himself, lets him inside her, acts as if there were no consequences.

"Where are you going?" he asks, managing to say it as if he was talking to the forest in general, though she knows that he is speaking exclusively to her.

"Off to die," she says cheerfully. It is a joke between them, if it can be called a joke. She is going to battle, regardless of whether she dies this time, the point is that she's sure she'll die in a battle eventually. All battles are one to her, an endless orgy of pain and blood and desperate exertion, every time she feels that thrill, she knows that someday, it will be the last thing she feels. So, fighting is like dying to her.

"Afterwards," he says, pulling her close enough for her to smell the blood on his face, wanting to kiss her while her lips are still soft, before winter really hits, wanting to maul her, show the bitch what it's like to be marked, for everyone to look at you and know you were possessed by another— Instead, he trembles a little with self control, which really, he is still learning, and hovers with his nose almost touching hers, looking down into her dark eyes.

She smiles, wide and pretty. When she's happy like this, even Sesshoumaru feels it, and feeling as conflicted as she should be, he smiles back at her. Of course, other men have noticed her smile, but they couldn't handle her, and she couldn't tolerate them. She almost tells him where to meet her, but he'll find her anyway. He always does.

A few hours later, Sesshoumaru's mood is deteriorating. His mother is rubbing various things on the injuries she can find, knowing full well that there are others he won't show her, and lecturing him on it extensively.

Sesshoumaru's mother is stunningly beautiful, terrifyingly powerful, and unfortunately insane. She was chosen for being the right sort of demon, and essentially regarded as breeding stock, however, after her first pregnancy, her husband avoided her company at all costs, and fathered no more children on her.

She is conflicted. She is angry that her life was never hers, that she was her father's bargaining chip, and then her husband's burden, changing hands like an inanimate object, and that everyone was surprised that she went mad in the absence of both choice and affection. At the same time, if she suffered the rules of the world, then it must have been for a good reason, and so that her suffering was not in vain, everyone else must follow the same rules. Especially Sesshoumaru.

"The kappas told me," she grits out, "about you and your little slut."

"Father killed all the kappas," Sesshoumaru says lazily, having given up on shooing her away.

"Well then it was their ghosts," she insists.

"Maybe it was the scratches down my back that you're currently cleaning," Sesshoumaru suggests, stifling a yawn.

"Little hellcat," his mother mutters angrily. "She's not one of the good women, like me. No, no, she's the evil kind, comes from women raped by oni, always stalking for nice young sons from good families to pervert. I saw her last night, she was smiling, with blood on her hands, and teeth like a fish, in my room, not letting either of us sleep, messing up your perfect skin with her disgusting septic human nails, why couldn't you get a girl like me, a _nice_ girl," and on, and on, and on.

Actually, Midoriko _does_ remind him of his mother in some ways. It scares him a little. But both of them would hurt him if he mentioned it, so he says nothing, which is something he's become very good at.

"I have something for her!" Sesshoumaru's mother exclaims, frighteningly cheerful all of a sudden. "A little present. I found it just lying around, and I thought of _her_," she says, growling a little in the last word.

Sesshoumaru looks up warily. "I don't think she wants your dead kappas, they're getting rank."

"As if I'd give them to her! Honestly, when was the last time your father ever did something for me? I'm keeping those. No, what I have for her is _alive_."

"Is it a tapeworm?"

"Good guess, but no."

"Hmm. One of those things that summons a hundred mononoke?"

"Silly, those aren't alive."

"I hope it isn't one of those demon crows, because she got three last week."

"I'll throw mine out then, darn. But that's not what I was going to give her this time."

Sesshoumaru throws his arms up in surrender. "I give up, Mother, what is it?"

Giggling, she uncovers a small cage, and withdraws a two-tailed firecat by the scruff of the neck, hissing and spitting like a mountain lion, and trying to shred everything in sight with its needle-sharp claws. "Isn't it just perfect? It's like her twin!"

Sesshoumaru smiles wryly, shaking his head. "Oh, Mother. I'll take it to her, I'm sure she'll love it."

"You'd better not set it free, now," Mother warns.

But Sesshoumaru knows better than to invoke her wrath. "I'll tell her it's from you."

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The wind is a wonderful thing. One day, when he is much, much older, Sesshoumaru will meet the wind, and be disappointed. The wind speaks to him, like his mother's voices, heating his blood with Midoriko's scent. It tells him that she's hurt, but happy, that she hasn't bathed since her battle, and that she is receptive. Aroused, he lets the bit of cloth holding the struggling firecat slip to the ground, not realizing until he hears the soft thud, and then it's too late.

Midoriko didn't have a chance. She shouldn't have, anyway. The firecat transforms into a huge form for fighting, and runs with every bit of pent up rage for her, her paws sparking on the grass, leaving a singed scent in the air, with little spirals of smoke rising. So when Midoriko screams, the beast's claws in her before Sesshoumaru can reach her, he thinks Mother has finally succeeded. But then he sees her shine.

He says he doesn't believe in humans. He means it. But whenever he sees this, he is afraid. He wants to look away, go back to pretending she is just a girl, but he is captivated. It's too late for the cat now, she is already changing, her soul raped and claimed by this girl who thinks she's pure, forever a shadow of what she was. Sesshoumaru feels for the firecat, not because he cared for the dumb beast, but because he would be her, there but for the grace of he knows not what.

The beast is purring. It is _happy_, that's the part that bewilders him. Was not only its heart taken from it, but the capacity to realize what it lost? Would he be happy, if she purged him? Would he want to be?

"Mother sends her regards," he says to her, acting like he didn't just see her almost die, acting like he doesn't care. He's a terrible actor, and he really never got much better.

The firecat nudges Midoriko, and she strokes it, idly, letting the undecided winter-summer air nip at her open wounds. "Do you love me, Sesshoumaru?"

"No." No apology, no remorse. Just 'no.'

"Does your mother know that?"

"I would assume so," he says, watching her carefully. She's not apt to talk about love, and he likes it that way. If she already treats him like this, he can't imagine what being loved by her would be like. That he might return that love is something he doesn't even consider.

"Then I don't know what she's so afraid of. It's not like we're getting married or anything."

"Of course not," Sesshoumaru says softly, creeping closer to her.

"Not like..." she pauses, as Sesshoumaru kisses her, and it is one of their more tender kisses, since she lets him lead. He moves down, most of her armor is already off, in anticipation; he peels her clothes off, very careful of her wounds, pulls her breasts together and kisses them.

"...we intended to stay together." He slides his mouth over her nipple, pulling her clothes all the way off, which seems unfair to her, since he is fully clothed. She'll have to remedy that. The firecat watches them, harmless. She can still feel a piece of its soul in her, and not the nice piece. Oddly, instead of making her furious, it causes a contrary reaction, making her pensive. Sesshoumaru's hands slide down to her hips, feeling the corded muscles tense under her soft shape, digging in to keep their balance, because they are becoming dizzy, might fall any second, even this weak half-hearted wind would be enough.

He kisses her bruises, some are too tender to be touched, even so lightly, but she doesn't flinch. She doesn't care that this hurts, or that feels good, even when he nuzzles in between her legs and it feels _wonderful_, she thinks it's all the more cruel. These things are to feel, and not to keep. She wonders that she even cares, she never worried about these things before, when she woke up every day certain she would die, and welcoming it. She wishes that she could shine her light through him, make him hers, and not worth having. But she never can. She is not pure when it comes to him.

So at the end of the day, she is naked before him.

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He knows it before she does. The change in the makeup of her blood that speaks of life. And he knows it means a choice, one he does not want to make.

She still uses him. Makes him into her strength, her searing pleasure, her relaxation, recreation, release from what everyone else thinks she is. Gives him every feeling she knows how, and takes no less. And he lets her.

But lately her heart is skipping beats, and she _knows_. She has skipped her period. She actually tries to delude herself for a few days_, it's late, I'm irregular_, even though she hasn't skipped since she was thirteen_, maybe I'm sick, or not eating well, or injured, even..._ But she knows. There is one, very obvious reason for her not to menstruate.

And he has been acting differently. So she suspects he does not need to be told. But she decides to tell him anyway, because she needs to talk about it.

There isn't a way to break it nicely, or make it less awkward. Or if there is, she doesn't want to bother. She plunges headfirst, like it is any other battle. "Sesshoumaru, I think I'm pregnant. No, I don't think, I _am_ pregnant."

His eyes betray nothing. They wouldn't dare to. "Congratulations."

"Congratulations? What if I don't want to be pregnant!" she says incredulously. She's almost too surprised to be mad at him. Almost.

"Now you're surprised?" he asks, and he is mocking her again, although she thinks it isn't really him, but his family imprinted on him. "I assumed you wanted a baby, considering all the sex you wanted."

Oh, she thinks, that wasn't fair. "I thought I was going to die, and I wanted you, that was all. You know I don't think about the future. And—and anyway! I wasn't the only one having all that sex, I should be congratulating you, _father_."

He looks at her as sternly as he can, and then loses all semblance of seriousness, and breaks out laughing. It sounds evil to both of them.

"What's so funny, Sesshoumaru," she says dejectedly. "You haven't won yet, you know."

"It's not that," he says, suddenly very young and mercurial and present, and the man she secretly fell in love with under all that stuffiness. "But you won't be able to hide this anymore."

Midoriko analyzes that a long moment. If he's that happy about everyone knowing about them, it means—"Sesshoumaru, you're staying with me?"

"I've known about this," he admits, "but it doesn't matter. My parents don't rule me, and your village certainly doesn't. I'm not ashamed of what we do."

"So what now," she asks, feeling drained. She wonders if he will marry her, and wonders more how she even feels about that. She likes him, but hates commitment. It feels like a trap to her, and she is claustrophobic. Then again, just being pregnant feels like a trap, and either way, she can't go back to the way things were. The idea of a baby isn't all bad. She certainly isn't afraid of pain.

"Well," he says slowly, "have you thought of any names?"

She smiles weakly, the first weak thing he ever saw her do. Which reminds him that she is human, and all the bad things that means. That the child will be her child, but never truly his, because he cannot claim it. That she will get old and die, or maybe just die, knowing Midoriko. The thought of her old seems impossible to him, but he makes himself picture it, her hunched and shrunken and tottering around, and him, the exact same age, bouncing his grandchild on his knee, while his own child, older than him now, watches. That's if their child can even pass for human. The alternative is a shunned dog-creature that will bring shame on both of them.

"I hope it's a boy," Midoriko says. "I like boy's names better. All the strong-sounding kanji are for boy's names."

"Either way, it'll probably have my eyes," Sesshoumaru says, edging up to what he's worried about.

"You have pretty eyes," she says, resting her head on his chest.

"Maybe it'll have more than just my eyes."

She gets his drift. "Don't sell me short. This is _my_ baby."

"You don't understand," he says, starting to get worried. "I'm not just any demon. Father warned me..." he closes his eyes, and bites his tongue. She might not even survive the pregnancy, from what his father told him. He tells himself again and again that he doesn't care. But not being a very good actor, he doesn't believe himself.

She chooses to ignore this. It's no different from any other battle, and it's not the outcome that's important to her, but how much she gets to feel before it's over. "I like 'Sesshoumaru.' Not for the baby, of course, since it's taken, but I like your name."

"You would." Of course she likes it, he thinks, it's the circle of life and death, it's all the extremes that she so loves. Sesshoumaru is proud of his name. But he doesn't like it.

She slides up to kiss him, it is fierce like it always is with her, but the passion behind it is different; she's actually trying to be gentle. She wants to share her joy of staying together, wants physical reassurance that he's here, and wants her, and that she's still a sexual figure, not some abstraction of motherhood.

Making love should be a team effort, but Sesshoumaru always thought that with Midoriko, they are on opposing sides. Even kissing is a minor battle, full of seduction and distraction and ambush, he is careless and his fangs score her lip, the guilt throws him off his guard, and she captures his bottom lip coyly, winning the battle, but not the war.

Later, people will condemn them for what they're doing, something that at the time has nothing to do with anyone but each other. Midoriko is determined not to be stripped first this time, and Sesshoumaru's clothes take the brunt of her frustration; he knows they'll have to be replaced, now, but it's not as if he could have stopped her. She's the thing he can't replace. He's actually stunned when that hits him, that he doesn't want to be without her, and it hits him stronger because he's been resisting it, so it's like a dam breaking. She is merciless, and uses the moment to her advantage, winning their contest and straddling him. He makes a little surprised sound, which only seems to encourage her. She's still partially clothed, her blood-streaked hair falling over her shoulders like a mantle, the sky is dark and looming, and only when he sees the flurries drifting down does he realize that it's supposed to be cold, though the snow does little to quench their heat.

That evening, the snow crunches under their feet surreally in the clear cold twilight, as they walk into her village, hand in hand.

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They say she cannot be pure. They know nothing, Sesshoumaru thinks, of her purity, they have not felt her love, though they will see the depths of her hate. As the child grows within Midoriko, he sees her grow more feral, and what could be more pure, he wonders, than motherhood, with the fierce love and devotion it brings.

But it's odd that he's the only one who believes in her, because the only time she is not pure is when it comes to him. He takes away her singularity of purpose, makes her love and hate and fear and _want_, none of these being evils in their own right, but together, they are muddled, and she is powerless and raging in his arms.

And she's angry again.

Rumors pass from hut to hut, whispering of the once-great miko warrior, who laid with a demon and is tainted with his seed, she shouldn't be allowed to stay, goodness no, it might bring bad luck upon them all! The cocky men and their kept women all nod their heads and agree, disregarding the number of times she has saved all their lives. If anything, that plays against her, just goes to show that she wasn't normal, and anyone who doesn't want to be normal, is a threat.

They say worse things than that about Sesshoumaru, things that make twelve year old maidens squeak in terror and hide behind anything that's handy when he comes strolling by. It only confirms his belief that most humans are quite insignificant and stupid.

Midoriko's heard it all, because no one seems to have mastered the art of whispering, and can never say it quite softly enough that she can't hear them. She's furious at them, and not too pleased with Sesshoumaru either, for not caring enough, and she's afraid of being out in the wilderness alone, pregnant, and _terrified_ that Sesshoumaru will just get fed up and leave her, so she leaves as many marks as possible, until he is covered in many tiny crescents, miniature versions of the one on his brow, digging her nails in as if to make sure he doesn't get up and leave in the middle of sex, as if this was a likely possibility.

"I _hate_ them," she swears in the deluge of climax, clenching and tangling her fists in his long hair, going rigid and snapping and kicking like an animal, "they'll die for me, I'll make them die," and Sesshoumaru realizes that it is the thought of their deaths, and not him, that ultimately pushed her over the edge this time, and he finds that so erotic that he climaxes as well, seeing her drenched in their gore, a killer like him.

He feels guilty for that, later. Neither of them ever speaks of that time again.

And lately, she just sits by her window, glaring out with the stubbornness and smoldering rage of a prisoner, forgotten but never forgetting. Sometimes she strokes the yet nameless firecat, who is ever by her side. She softens slightly when he come to her and kisses her, she nibbles his ears, her mouth painfully hot after coming in from the driving snow. She would be out in that snow, but he holds her back, entreating her not to die today, for the sake of the child. She misses the whisper of death on her skin, chased away by the strange new life growing inside her.

Death, it seems, misses her as well. It comes in the shape of an angry mob, who burn her simple hut, and want to burn her, too. The firecat fears no flames, and snarls menacingly. Midoriko grips her sword resolutely and stares them down, their fire still bright and cruel in her eyes. She has spilled blood before, and guts, and brains, and every conceivable form of gore, so she cannot offer an empty threat. Either she kills them, and she knows how ugly that will be, or she leaves. But they are shivering in the cutting cold that she lets enter her without a fight. They are weak, and ordinary, and most have children, no less an innocent than the one she carries. She knows them. Saved them so many times. Life will go on, for them, if she walks out into the cold. She feels foolish for ever wanting them dead, turns, and trudges away.

And then she hears that sickening sound. The one she loves. Tearing through living flesh, a death rattle, screams, scuffling, all in an instant. She whirls around, and is sprayed with warm blood. Sesshoumaru is there, looking like winter incarnate, hunched over his prey, his tangled hair whipping around him, up to his elbows in blood. The corners of his mouth are firm, but he is uncertain. It seemed so simple at the moment, defend his Midoriko, what else could he do? But he is realizing she chose to spare them. He trembles a bit, and not with cold, trying to meet her eyes, and see if she is looking at a monster.

She pants, mired in the snow, gasps of warm breath rising around her, dripping with the blood of the people she thought she'd spared. Sesshoumaru seems to be smiling, but it's not a human smile, it's that dog grimace, which she is learning means he is afraid. She wants to say, 'You killed them!' or something really obvious like that, but it's too late for that, they've gone past words, so she struggles towards him, having to guess where her feet are, because they've gone numb, but trusting that they're still attached, she perseveres.

His eyes are wide open with shock, and the pupils retracted to dots, making his face look more wild than usual. It's not killing which bothers him, and that's the problem. She tries to take his hands, to comfort him, and reassure herself that they are still his hands, whose fingers she'd suckled on happier days, but he recoils suddenly.

"No, you can't," he says, his wild eyes looking into hers sincerely. "It's—they're poison." She swallows, seeing that the blood on his hands is burning away, soon he will be clean, but not really. So she just holds him tightly, binding his arms to his body, encircling him, and he holds his dripping hands out gingerly, and closes his eyes, finally feeling like he can breathe. A few scorching tears slip down Midoriko's face, and she suspects they stole all her warmth, because they are the only heat she feels.

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"It seems," Sesshoumaru says calmly, "that we are both dispossessed."

He almost didn't make it to her in time. If his family had kept him much longer, she would have been frozen into the landscape until the thaw.

He turns it over in his mind. He had entered the great hall, built on the bones of his ancestors, dating back to times when petty kings and fearless leaders lay unburied for the ravens to pick at, no better of than the rest of their pitiful race, and the demons were gods. It did not intimidate him, though, it was his birthright. Or it had been, at any rate.

His mother is ranting about him, every rumor whispered by villagers, magnified by the tanukis and the kitsune, and anything else that liked to tell and improve a good story. His father is regal and haggard, massaging the space between his eyebrows, and already quite decided.

Sesshoumaru is their only child. Their heir, their pride, their hope. He thought himself immune to any rules because of this. How wrong he was.

"Father," Sesshoumaru says, breaking the first rule of combat by making the first move. He wouldn't be so careless with anyone else. But before his father, he can't help but feel like a child.

"Inu-taishou," his father says gravely. Sesshoumaru understands what is being taken from him. I am not your father, it said, I am only Inu-taishou. The last Inu-taishou.

Sesshoumaru can't make himself spit out his father's title. "_Father,_" he says insistently, "she's—she's just a girl. Only a girl. That's all." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself. Neither of them believes him.

"You must kill the little tramp, and prove your loyalty to your people!" his mother demands. Sesshoumaru looks desperately for help from his father, and finds none. This hall, this home, built on the bones of his ancestors, that he thought would last forever, seems to be crumbling around him. He turns to leave.

"No!" his mother hisses. "You won't go back to her, I won't let you! You _will_ be my son!"

But this time, his father holds her back. "Let him go. Perhaps some day he will be worthy to be our heir again. Until that time, he is dead to us. We shall not hear his cries for help, or hinder him in his course of destruction. Our son is a traitor. We have no son." His voice is the sound of pieces clicking into place, fate taking its course, something unavertable that you should have known was coming all along.

When he saw Midoriko about to be taken from him too, he lost it. Lost everything, pride, control, mercy, sentience, everything that was his, but not her.

So they sit like small human royalty, in the village's best house, with Midoriko wrapped in blankets, staring into a roaring fire so steadily, Sesshoumaru fears for her sight.

He's seen the ugliness of his people, and of hers. He's seen himself, a monster in her eyes, and he's seen every side of her, the shining pride, the insatiable fury, and everything else, because she alone in this world has nothing to hide. She bares herself, daring the world to challenge her. And they, all vile beasts, had the gall to condemn her, say that she embodies all their petty flaws, using her as their scapegoat so they can go back to pretending that they're pure.

She won't kill them, but she's done with them. It's not the hot rage that makes her growl in strange ecstasies, but a cold one, creeping up on her with iron claws like winter's frost, hardening her against them. They wanted a world without her. She will show them what that is like. Give them the pain they were so willing to give her. Her child kicks, hard, and she is proud. They treated her like nothing for so many years. An orphan with no status, bringing out the cruelties in the most innocuous citizens. When she was finally twelve years old and beautiful, suddenly she had something the beasts wanted. That's when she learned she was strong. Yet, forgivingly, she turned her power to their aid, slaying demon after demon to save them, and finding purpose in this. But now they've told her to choose between defending them, and having a family. Fine. She's already chosen.

Most of the weaker demons hibernate through winter, so her choice is not put to the test until the thaw. Her icy resolution remains, however. She doesn't feel sorry for people because they die, though she does feel pity that they did not welcome death. People come to her door begging, but she does nothing until only a quarter of the population remains. The idea of having the demons kill them to the last appeals to her, but they are no longer the people she bore a grudge against. These people have seen death, felt their own mortality through bitter wounds and the blood of their kin. They are purged, seeing things in halftones of life and death. In other words, they have become like her. She accepts this, as the only form of apology that is valid to her. So, very pregnant, she fits her armor carefully, and prepares for battle again.

"I'm coming with you," Sesshoumaru says, loyal as the firecat that is already at her heels.

"But I'm just defending these humans."

"I don't care. This is your battle. I want to share it."

So, for the first time, they fight together on the same side. The days ahead are long and unpleasant, the snow lies in hard melting heaps, the world is soaking wet, and cold on their raw skin, even the trees are soft with the water that is everywhere, the only colors are the bleak dead things, and the decrepit snow, their sense of smell is flooded with smoke, but underneath all that, there's something fresh and wonderful, something green unfurling beneath the sodden miserable earth.

Yet the three of them, Midoriko, Sesshoumaru, and the firecat, define themselves by a harsher reality than everyone else, daily slaughtering droves of starving, mindless demons. And the remainder of the villagers bring them gifts, not to appease someone more powerful, but as a recognition of the life they have given them.

Life is hard, Midoriko knows, falling face first in the gravel, and life is pain; she clenches her jaw, feeling the grit crunch, but it is life, that makes it worth feeling, and it makes dying worthwhile, too. She has fallen curled up, to protect her child; a hand helps her to her feet, she would know without looking that it's Sesshoumaru, no one else ever helps her.

She has not been the easiest person to love, but he has stood by her. Together, they face the demons.

* * *

(Too late to turn back. On to Part Two.)


	2. Born Free

Our rumored desires, hers for all I know gone to black forests and wolves,

Mine banging back to the familiar form,

That great revenant mystery I still could only hear the shape of,

Which in spite of our separate lusts and individual prides,

Still continued to drive us into deeper tones,

Our mutual desire to keep gripping the burn...

-Mark Danielewski

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Midoriko is not, and has never been, afraid of pain. But this time she screams. Fear or no fear, it's not something she has a choice about.

The midwife had rather hoped she'd be the type to huff and puff in relative silence, but Midoriko is not in the habit of holding anything in. When the contractions come, she screams without shame, hurting even the midwife's desensitized ears, and making the old woman wonder if there is something wrong with the child, who is after all, half demon.

Screaming was perhaps not the best idea. The demons all around have been waiting for this, seeing their huntress' obvious pregnancy. Their strike is swift and calculated. But Sesshoumaru is there waiting for them. The villagers still hate him deep down, so he takes no joy in protecting them, but he fulfils Midoriko's pact, because he loves her. He hasn't told anyone but her of his love, believing that it is a matter between only the two of them, but he's still a terrible actor, so anyone who isn't afraid to see it knows.

Midoriko tells herself that she is still not afraid. The pain will come, and it will go, and the faster she accepts that, the faster she can get it over with. If she dies she dies, no helping that. If the baby dies... ah, and now she is afraid, for the first time in a very long time.

Midoriko's labor is short as these things go, just over four hours. The midwife attributes it to her strength and wide hips. However, she manages to do something even the midwife is not used to seeing, namely a G-spot orgasm. The baby is born, and Midoriko is gasping and weak, and dripping with sweat, and the old midwife shakes her head in astonishment, and wishes every girl was so lucky.

The baby is quite large and healthy looking, as Sesshoumaru made sure Midoriko ate well, even though it was winter. It is a girl. And both women can tell that she's not human. Her hair is as silvery as her father's, though there's so little of it now, she might as well be bald. She has dog ears, which are floppy, and on closer inspection, she also has a tail. Her eyes are grayish blue, Midoriko notes, not amber, though who knows what color they'll turn later. And she has her mother's scream.

The midwife resolves to treat this as any other infant, so ties off the umbilical cord and cuts it, and carefully washes her. She passes the infant to her mother, and tends to Midoriko's needs, cleaning her up, and giving her water. Midoriko inspects her child, who seems to be trying to invent a new facial expression, sees that the impossibly tiny perfect fingers have impossibly tiny perfect claws on them, though the fingers seem inclined to curl in, presumably so as not to damage anything. The toes also have minute claws, and on the soles of her feet, are the hints of pads, though not on the palms, she notices. The baby has a human face though, and a more or less human body, and Midoriko is satisfied. It is a beautiful child. She kisses the little girl, and gives her baby her first milk.

Having dealt with the demons, Sesshoumaru heads back, it is a clear day, but chilly, and everywhere green things are unfurling; he thinks it is a perfect day for life to be starting. His mother told him he was born on the darkest day of winter, and that even for a demon child this was an ill omen. He is pleased that his first child seems to have better luck.

The midwife casts him an ugly look on his way out, but he barely notices. He finds Midoriko on their futon, flushed and tired, and crooning to their baby. He sits down gently next to her.

"She looks good," Sesshoumaru says, still trying to sound like he doesn't care, and still terrible at it, though Midoriko thinks he's even worse at it this time than usual.

"How'd you know it's a girl?" she asks.

Sesshoumaru taps his nose lightly.

"Oh," Midoriko says, her eyes widening, "my, I must smell awful to you!"

Sesshoumaru kisses her brow. "Never."

She smiles. "I've seen the things dogs like to sniff, but I suppose I'll take that as a compliment anyway."

The baby has her fill of nursing, and looks at her mother sleepily.

"May I?" Sesshoumaru asks. Midoriko looks at him with a sort of animal wariness, and for a moment Sesshoumaru fears she may hurt him. Reluctantly, she surrenders her child, watching him like a hawk the entire time.

Sesshoumaru resolves to hold the baby very, very carefully, but actually having the little live thing in his arms throws him off his guard. He is careful, and gingerly supports the head, but he is awkward. Babies are heavier than they look, he decides. "She has my ears," he says, almost sadly.

"I don't _get_ it," Midoriko says. "I'd heard of things like this, but your ears aren't like that, they're just kind of pointy."

Sesshoumaru looks at her as if from very far away. "These aren't my real ears, Midoriko, love." His expression betrays nothing, but very silently, he is crying, from happiness or sadness or both, Midoriko knows not. Her eyes often water from one passion to the next, shameless and uncontrolled, but she has never seen his tears before.

Sesshoumaru returns his full attention to the baby. "And a tail. That will make diapering more difficult."

"We'll manage."

There is silence a long moment.

"Sesshoumaru?" Midoriko asks softly, and he looks at her. "Can I see? Your real ears, I mean, your real everything."

Sesshoumaru looks at the ceiling doubtfully. "I wouldn't fit in here."

Midoriko chews on that, trying to imagine how big a dog he'd have to be. "Later then, outside?"

Sesshoumaru passes their daughter back to her. "Please, don't ask me that."

"Are you ashamed?"

"Never," he says, with passion. "I'm proud of who I am, even if my parents are not. But my demon form..." he searches for the words, "has no place between us."

"You're afraid I'll think you're a monster," she says, cradling her hanyou child.

"What if you did." He doesn't look at her.

Midoriko is intensely curious now, and slightly afraid. "Is it very ugly?"

"Not to demons. To you, I don't know."

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The next day, Sesshoumaru is trying to think of names.

"All the good names are for boys," Midoriko sighs.

"You wanted a strong name, right?" Sesshoumaru asks. "How about Kaori?" (Strong)

"That's so obvious. The gods will be angry at our presumption, and make our child weak."

"Kana, then?" (Powerful)

"I knew a Kana once..."

"Oh?"

"I _hated_ her," Midoriko says with feeling.

"Gen, or Haruko, because she was born in the spring?" (Spring)

"I was born in the spring, that's how I got 'green' in my name. My name is stupid, I hate it."

"Now you're just being difficult," Sesshoumaru says, getting a headache.

"Maybe a little... But think what an important thing we're doing, naming a person."

_Yes,_ Sesshoumaru thinks, _a person who will bear that name for the blink of an eye._ The idea of his child's mortality was bothering him considerably.

"Kumiko," Sesshoumaru says suddenly. (Eternal beauty)

"More like Hotaru." (Firefly)

The child in question sleeps peacefully.

"Don't talk like that," Sesshoumaru says in a low voice.

"Come on, we went into this with eyes wide open."

Sesshoumaru racks his brain. "Maeko? Junko?" (Truth, Purity)

"I like Ayumi," Midoriko says softly. (Walk)

"I don't get it. Ayumi?" Sesshoumaru says, puzzled.

"She'll be able to walk on her own. Be independent, not need anyone to lean on."

"She can't even sit up, Midoriko."

"That's not forever."

"Maybe we shouldn't be thinking this way, putting our needs on her," Sesshoumaru says, taking her hand. "Maybe we should give her a name that's just a name, and let her be who she is."

"Like?"

"Shinju." (Pearl)

"Because of her hair?" Midoriko asks, eyeing Sesshoumaru's shining white locks.

"Because she's our pearl."

Midoriko smiles.

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Shinju grows fast, and time seems to flow swiftly for the young parents. Soon Shinju can toddle around, and she can say "Mommy," "Daddy," "Kitty," "Rice," and "Half-breed."

Midoriko burns with rage when she hears that. She knows that the people in her village aren't as accepting as she thought. She had thought motherhood had taken the edge off her nihilistic bloodlust, but she feels it rushing back to her. As soon as Shinju is asleep, she grabs her sword and heads for the door. To her surprise, it is Sesshoumaru who stops her.

"You won't make it any better," he says sadly.

"I'll feel better," she asserts. The yet-nameless firecat pads into the room, and looks at them as if listening, twitching her twin tails.

"It won't ever stop, you know," Sesshoumaru says. "No matter where she goes, or how much time passes, humans will know that she's not like them. Better she gets through it now, while we're here to help her."

"I know exactly how I want to help her!" Midoriko declares furiously, gripping her sword. "I'll show her she doesn't have to stand for this! I'll show her that it's okay to defend yourself, so she'll never get pushed around!"

"However, there's only one of her. If she pushes them, the humans will gang up on her, and they may win. They will call her dangerous, and they'll be right. She's going to be stronger than most full-blooded demons. But every month, she will be human for a night. If she does nothing but make enemies, they will kill her."

"You and I..." Midoriko began, wavering. "You and I, we've done some bad things, maybe. People have a reason to hate us. But they don't hate her because of what we did, they just hate her because of what she is. I don't understand that. I want it to stop." She grips her sword until her knuckles are white, and her fingers hurt, because that is the sort of pain she can understand. "I want it to stop."

Sesshoumaru puts his hands on her shoulders. She remembers the night he killed people for her, when he warned her not to touch his hands because they were poison. She still hasn't seen his demon form. She knows it must be very powerful. That's what these people are afraid of, power. She's sure that they would think his true form was ugly, but she would find it beautiful, if only he would show it to her. They don't understand beauty, they trample pearls unknowing.

Hot tears are creeping down her face. "Kiss me."

He does.

"Not so gentle," she whispers to his cheek. "It's okay if you hurt me."

Sesshoumaru shakes his head like a child told to eat their least favorite food. "I don't like hurting you. It's too easy for me."

"You used to let me freeze after we made love," she says, "I still remember."

"That was a long time ago. I think I was angry with you then."

She drops her sword, though she has gripped it too tightly for long enough that her fingers have cramped. She grabs his ass with both hands, digging in, pulling him towards her, grinding a little. "You have more of a reason to be angry with me now, don't you? Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like you want me to die."

He looks at her like she has struck a mortal blow on him. Betrayed. She feels bad, feels like she's gone too far, but she gets off on it, too. And he's hard, which encourages her.

"Did I take your evil after all?" she says, half seducing, half taunting. "Are you so pure now that you've forgotten how to fuck me?"

"You don't want that, Midoriko. Not like this."

"I know I do. And I think you do, too, by the feel of things." She tilts her pelvis and grins.

He is growling. But it is a different growl than the one he used to make. This one is a warning. She likes it, and reaches up to kiss him. The moment their lips touch, he kisses back, not the tender kisses he has always given her, but all his frustration and fury released on her, not bothering to be nice or neat, but kissing as if she were dying, and this would give her life, and he wants her to have all of it. She responds instantly, and he grabs her. She tests her strength against his, and finds that even with every ounce of her formidable power, she cannot not budge him, and suspects he could break her in half without a fight if he so chose. The realization sends a jolt of pleasure through her, and in its wake she is angry with him, for holding this back so long.

And if she is angry, he is furious. This is something he never wanted to do to her, and seeing how much she enjoys it only fans his rage. She wants sex with a monster, he thinks, this is why she wants to see his true form so badly, she wants a monster. And he is becoming one. He claims her body with increasing savagery, not even bothering to tear off her clothes, just hitching her skirts around her waist, his claws leaving puncture wounds with bruises around them, biting and sucking so as to mark her everywhere, and she drowns in a pleasure that will leave her sore for days.

Even afterwards, she knows he held back, no bones are broken, and he was careful of her breasts, because Shinju is still nursing. But that doesn't really matter, she thinks, as she lies spoilt and sated on the tatami mats, because for a moment, she thought she might die. She is grateful to him for making her feel that. And she is grateful for her life, as well. But he is angry with her. She has broken his trust.

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Several days later.

Very little can make Midoriko hold a grudge. Her anger is like the tides, always surfacing, but unable to stay for very long, swept away, and replaced by the next emotion.

But Sesshoumaru holds grudges.

She finds him under a tree. It is high summer, and impossible amounts of light fill her eyes, while the roaring drone of the cicadas fills her ears, leaving her feeling a sensory overload. The sky presses down, perfectly blue and looking close enough to touch, while the land looks miles away, years away, unreachable.

When she reaches him, she doesn't know what to say, so she sits near him, and sees him stiffen slightly, the way he's been doing when she gets near. She glances down the hill nervously, Shinju pulls one of the firecat's tails, how many times has she told her not to do that? But the demon takes it good-naturedly. That once savage beast has become deeply devoted to her child. Midoriko knows that Shinju will always be protected.

But unlike the firecat, Sesshoumaru has not been purified by her power. He's autonomous, fully capable of hating her or leaving her. She waits to see if he will react to her presence, then grows impatient. But she feels like she has no words, she can't say she's sorry, because she isn't, and it's too late for that anyway.

"I love you," she says, desperately meaning it.

"I love you too," he responds, no less sincere than her, but no less upset with her than he was moments ago.

"Then what's wrong?" she pleads.

"_Why_ do you love me?" he asks. She can't see his face, but he's tapping his fingers on the tree bark.

She just sits there a moment, mouth open slightly, stunned by the question. "Because it's _you_," she says at last. "You're beautiful!"

"Beautiful?" he says almost scornfully, whirling around so she can see him. He does indeed look beautiful to her, his familiar, inhuman sort of beauty that scares most people. Not just his outer appearance either, but all of him. She'd always been able to feel his soul, even if she couldn't change it. "Was what we did that night beautiful?"

"To me," she says weakly. She is covered in ugly marks, but to her, that is beautiful too. When she bathes, she stops to appreciate her naked body and the curves of wounds and bruises on it, following the shape of his powerful hands.

"What if it didn't stop there. What if I hurt you. What if I killed you! I could never forgive myself for that, or you."

"Maybe you don't understand," she says, half to herself, "because you're immortal. But I'm going to die, and that's beautiful to me."

"I understand too well," Sesshoumaru says, "because you're mortal."

"I only—it's not like that. I swear, I wasn't trying to make it ugly. These things are sacred to me, sex, and death," Midoriko says passionately.

"So you love me," Sesshoumaru says slowly, "because I'm death to you. Because you think monsters are beautiful."

"No," she says, her voice broken to a whisper, but he can still hear her. "I love you because I could stripe you like a tiger, and you still kissed me tenderly."

He softens a little, and crouches down to where she's sitting. "Then why?"

"I was hurting." Her voice is gone now, her eyes are dry, but he can _hear_ the tears. "Every time in my life I hurt, I could always do something. I could kill, or I could die, or fight, or whatever, but I had something! This time, I hurt, and it was like there was no way to get it out, it was just going to sit in me and rot, and not kill me, just keep me miserable and helpless, and I needed you to claw it out of me, I needed you."

Sesshoumaru closes his eyes as if in pain, and gives her one of those tender kisses she says she loves him for. "I'm sorry," he says, holding her, not apologizing for his actions, but simply sharing sympathy. "This is the price of the joy she brings. Everything has a price."

Midoriko clings to him, not hard enough to hurt him, and not trying to. "Other people don't pay that price to have children."

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Shinju is six years old, and she is glowering. It's a warm night in late spring, and there is no moon. She sits with her arms folded across her knees, and refuses to sleep.

"Come on," Midoriko coaxes, "I'm human, and I sleep every night, don't I?"

"Well, not _every_ night," Sesshoumaru teases.

"You shush, you're not helping," she says, giving him a mock glare.

"But Mommy, you're _strong_," Shinju insists. "I can't even walk! So I need to be awake, so if any demons or bad people come, at least I can scream."

Shinju never could balance without her tail, so if she needs to go anywhere while human, she is forced to crawl.

"I _hate_ this," she says vehemently. "I want to be a full demon like Daddy, and never have to go through this again."

"Do I look like I grant wishes?" Midoriko asks sternly.

Shinju refuses to dignify that with an answer.

There is a knock at the door. Shinju whimpers and pulls the firecat to her chest defensively, though who was intended to defend who is uncertain. Sesshoumaru reacts on gut instinct, and whirls around snarling, his eyes flashing red. Shinju looks at him as if this is the coolest thing in the world.

Only Midoriko thinks to actually answer the door. She takes note of Sesshoumaru's reaction, though, and brings her sword.

There are four people, three monks and a miko. Midoriko hasn't seen any of them before. She stares at them like they came from another planet.

One monk, clearly the leader, shoves by her rudely, and strolls right on into her house, motioning to the others to do the same. "So this is the demon, and the half-breed child—" he begins, but stops abruptly when Midoriko drives her sword through his foot.

"My. House," Midoriko enunciates clearly, over the monk's cries of pain. "What the hell do you think you're doing in it?"

"A—Apologies!" the monk grovels. "The sword, please, miko-sama...!"

The corner of Midoriko's mouth twitches, as she considers. Almost regretfully, she retracts her sword, the miko running over to him instantly, clearly afraid of her, and treating the wound.

"Ah, Midoriko, love, have you ruined another tatami? What a terrible wife you are," Sesshoumaru says, bemused. Shinju giggles wildly, feeling sure that things are under control.

"I'm Daichi," the injured monk says through clenched teeth, "this is the great miko Amaya, those are my companions, Hachiro and Katashi."

"Charmed," Midoriko says like dripping acid. "Daichi. To think I liked that name!"

"Please," Daichi says insistently, "you misunderstand us. Let us explain."

"All right," Midoriko says. "Come. Sit." She orders them like children, does not offer them tea, and certainly does not put down her sword. The people of her village have given them a hard time sometimes, but have generally been tolerant, strangers on the other hand, are sure to be trouble. And she senses that these have power. Not like hers, but enough to make her cautious. There are four that she sees. She doesn't know if there are more, also with power, perhaps more powerful.

And she hates anyone who calls her Shinju a half-breed. That goes without saying.

"What, is _she_ going to watch us?" Hachiro whispers to his comrades, eyeing Shinju.

"Amazing, she looks so human," Amaya says, rather tactlessly. Shinju makes a face at her. "What a rude—" Amaya begins, but Midoriko raises her sword a fraction, and she shuts up.

Daichi hobbles over a few steps, leaning on his friends, and they sit down in a crude circle, save for Sesshoumaru, who stands, leaning in the doorway.

"Miko-sama," Daichi says, addressing Midoriko. "We have been tracking a great and fearsome pack of demons, for many miles. When came this way, the people of this area spoke of an amazing warrior-miko of unrivalled power. Of course we decided to meet with her, with the hopes that she would join us in our quest to stop these demons." He glances at Sesshoumaru uncomfortably, uncertain about discussing demon-slaying while sitting under a clearly powerful and annoyed tai-youkai.

"Demons come," Midoriko says fatalistically. "I kill them. Or in special cases, make whoopee with them. Mostly kill. I've done this since I was fourteen, I've done it pregnant, I'm damn sure not afraid of any demon now—"

"Hey, take that back!" Sesshoumaru demands.

"...except aforementioned special whoopee case," she says, and Shinju giggles, "so I think what I'm saying is, what do I need you for?"

"This demon is special," Katashi says. "Many, many demons are finding ways to combine into one. Their power increases exponentially when they do this, so this is extremely dangerous. Right now they can only stay together for a little while, and then they break apart, and some of them die, but they're getting better at it. If they learn how to stay in one piece, the resulting demon will be a threat to every human alive."

Midoriko looks to Sesshoumaru, her eyes asking, _is this possible?_

Sesshoumaru nods, looking disturbed.

"Forgive our rudeness," Daichi says diplomatically, "we are used to little company but each other's, and that of the demons we slay, and with our urgency over this problem, I'm afraid we have acted disrespectfully towards you and your family. It was not intended thus."

"I'll help you with this demon thing," Midoriko says, "but after I kill it for you, I want you gone."

Hachiro and Amaya both break out with objections, but Daichi holds up his hand to silence them. "It is an honor, miko-sama. We are grateful to you."

And so, a cautious pact is struck between them. The monks and the miko sleep there that night, but Sesshoumaru and Midoriko take shifts, with one always awake, and by Shinju's side.

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Wearily, Midoriko pulls her armor on. It's just after dawn, and Shinju watches her, half asleep. Even in her hanyou form, she has dark eyes like her mother. She holds her claws out, examining them sleepily, comforted by them. Midoriko never says so, but those claws comfort her, too.

Sesshoumaru comes up behind her, and helps her tie on her armor. "Stay with her, for me," Midoriko pleads. "I don't like the way these strangers looked at her, even though she was human. I don't trust them."

"You don't trust them, so you want to go off alone with them?"

"I think they're right about the demon," Midoriko says carefully. "I sense something. But it's nothing I can't handle, please. You know if anything happens to Shinju, you'll lose us both."

"Take the firecat, then."

"No, I've seen how people like this fight, they have spells, wards and poisons that would kill all demons, but leave me unharmed. That's the other reason I don't want you coming."

Sesshoumaru smiles at her, trying to show her his confidence. "Nothing they have could kill me."

"It might throw you off long enough for this other demon to take your head off. No, in this battle, you would be fighting both sides. And I would be distracted defending you. Let me do this alone."

"You won't be alone," Daichi interrupts, "we'll be on your side." He is leaning heavily on Amaya, who says nothing.

"We're got a plan," Katashi says proudly. "Let us show you."

They lead her into a cave on the outskirts of the village. Midoriko had often played here as a child, though most kids were too scared of it. It is a creepy-looking cave, having stalactites suggesting nothing so much as teeth.

Daichi limps in behind her, leaning on his shakujo. The rings jangle with every step, echoing eerily. Midoriko does not fail to notice that the edges have been sharpened within an inch of their lives, and the shakujo is as dangerous as any sword.

"The demon," he says slowly, "is not far from here. But we need to set up a trap. When it is in its combined form, our powers are no match against it, unless we can lure it into pre-laid spells which we then activate. Since these take a lot of energy and forethought to make, it would be folly to lay a trap that the demon might simply sidestep. So, what we need you to do, is fight the demon, enrage it, and then run here, making sure it follows you. We'll take care of the rest."

"What's wrong with just killing it?" Midoriko asks.

"If you broke the bond between the many demons, the individuals would break apart, most of them still alive, and swarm you. You would die," Daichi says with certainty. "Better to let our spells take care of it."

The monks and the miko place wards and incantations around the cave, chanting, mixing salts, placing objects Midoriko doesn't recognize but is sure are dangerous in strategic places.

"So all I have to do is find this demon. And bring it here?" Midoriko asks dubiously.

The strangers nod, and bow.

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Midoriko wastes no time in finding the demon. It is huge and terrifying, demons clumsily fitted together, mouths full of crooked teeth protruding in odd places, many eyes, not one resembling another, and moving on too many legs, like a deformed spider. It seems to have been concerned with power, and little more, each demon unwilling to lose itself completely in the transformation, and so the selfish bits jut out of the monster, having a collective will, and individual wills at the same time.

Midoriko searches for a vulnerable point, but every spot on the demon seems to be expendable. She charges anyway, lancing the creature's many eyes with her sword. She isn't here to kill it, after all, just piss it off. The demon's reaction is sudden, and she barely escapes it. She considers trying to purify it, but doesn't fancy the prospect of taking so much evil into her soul at once.

So she leads it across the landscape, charging, striking, retreating, always in the direction of the cave, letting it catch up to her sometimes, and cutting off whatever comes into reach, so the demon won't suspect that it's being led. Not that it seems the thinking type.

This style of fighting is taking its toll on both of them, tiring them out, but Midoriko is riding on thrills and adrenaline, whereas the demon is becoming increasingly frustrated. It tries to leave in search of easier prey a few times, but Midoriko hounds it, wounding it into new rage, and sending it flying back at her, another few yards closer to the cave. It is nearly noon when she finally spots it, and breaks into a run, with the demon hard on her heels. At some point she realizes that it is taking all her strength just to keep up this pace, and in the time it would take her to turn and make a stand, the demon would already have her. She bends all her will towards her speed, and runs for her life.

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Sesshoumaru wakes up guiltily. He wasn't supposed to be sleeping. He untangles his daughter from his arms, and walks to the door, stretching his legs, glancing back once at Shinju, with the firecat curled up against her. He steps outside, enjoying the warm, fresh air, the sun bearing down overhead.

Two steps from the door, he feels a very strong hand cover his nose and mouth. Demon or not, he needs air, and he struggles violently, poison clouds coming from his hands as he tries to claw his attacker off of him, but it is a demon at least as strong as him, and unaffected by his efforts.

Just before he passes out, he hears a sickly sweet and _very_ familiar voice in his ear, saying, "Welcome back, Sesshoumaru-chan."

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Amazing herself, Midoriko does not trip over anything in her flight through the cave, finding her way as if she has lived here all her life. She reaches the cavern where her fellow demon-hunters are waiting, and suddenly there's no where left to run. She whirls, and the demon is on her, she screams as fangs from many mouths press into her, and hacks with her sword, lacking control or finesse, simply slashing in desperation.

"Now would be a good time," she screams, "to do whatever you're going to do!" The demon is lifting her high off the ground, and is wrapping around her; she begins to wonder seriously how much longer she can stay intact. This is the feeling, she knows, the feeling of fighting to the death, and she has always known it will be the last thing she feels.

Hachiro is laughing, and the others are following suit, high pitched and cruel. "We've _done_ what we came to do," he says, smiling at her struggles. Midoriko realizes that the demon is completely ignoring them, and that they have no intention of fighting it.

"_Why?!_" she demands, the only word she can get out while fighting, swinging her sword about herself wildly, and losing.

"It can't stay together properly without a human," Amaya says calmly. "It needs a human base, to organize itself around. Willing is better, but it is capable of taking one by force. And it wanted you. You are the strongest human."

The demon severs Midoriko's arm, and she does something she'll regret for a very, very long time. She shines.

Her traitorous companions step back in fear. "What is it?" Katashi asks, banging into the wall of the cave in his haste to get away.

"She's trying to purify it," Amaya says in amazement. "That's impossible, no one can—"

"You mean _you_ can't," Hachiro says cruelly. "This girl's not like us."

"She's still only a girl," Daichi sneers. "She will lose. Until then, we wait."

"What do we do then?" Katashi asks, regaining his composure. "Once this demon is complete—"

"We will be revered!" Daichi says, clapping his hands together once in enthusiasm. "People will live in fear, and they will turn to us, great and powerful warriors that we are. And Inu-taishou will give us our reward for eliminating his family's little problem."

But Midoriko doesn't hear them. She is immersed in the demon, which has frozen in midair, putting everything into its effort to assimilate her. She doesn't know what kind of condition she'll be in if she lives, or if she will bleed to death in the physical world first, but she is determined not to become part of this demon at all costs. She won't lose.

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"Wake up, Sesshoumaru-chan," the demoness croons.

"Mother," Sesshoumaru says, dazed, not realizing where he is and what has happened. He hasn't quite gotten his eyes open when he feels lips on his, pressing, and completely different from Midoriko's. He is awake with a shock, and struggles.

Escaping her, he pulls himself up on his elbows, his mother sitting on his waist. "That's disgusting, I'm your son!" Sesshoumaru says in shock.

"Son," his mother says, as if the word had a very different meaning for her than it did for him. "So many sons I should have had. So many heats I endured, not receiving so much as a touch from my husband, and not allowed to fulfil my needs elsewhere. But I'm breeding stock, isn't that right, Sesshoumaru-chan?"

"Where's Father?" Sesshoumaru asks desperately.

"Tut tut, he's gone off to take care of your little whore, by my request. He'll do anything for me, if I ask him for enough years." Her voice lowers dramatically. "Anything but love me."

"Is she—" Sesshoumaru breaks off, drenched in cold sweat. His Midoriko. He has to get to her, even though his mother is stronger than him, and she controls their fortress.

"Dead already." She smiles, and Sesshoumaru knows she thinks she's speaking the truth, though whether it's actually true or not, he has no idea. "Now, Sesshoumaru-_chan_, you do _love_ me, don't you?"

"You're mad. Let me go."

"Don't you want me, Sesshoumaru-chan? We can do all the things your human did, you won't even miss her now that she's gone..."

Sesshoumaru tries to get up and away from her, but she holds him pinned, using her years of experience with her power against him. She is a sorceress, and he knows little but how to kill inferior demons with his brute strength. It is no contest, and she slides over his groin, so that his struggles force him to grind against her. He stops in horror.

"I'm _better_," she says with conviction. "I'm better than your little human toy, and all the other girls I see _him_ looking at, and doing who knows what else with, I make good children, fine, beautiful sons, not like your miserable mutt-child, I can take care of you now, my Sesshoumaru-chan!"

"Shinju," he says, with tears in his eyes.

"I can have her killed at any time. She is alive," she hesitates, "because of your obedience to me. You're going to be a good boy now, aren't you, Sesshoumaru-chan?"

He says nothing.

"That's my boy," she says cheerfully. She pulls off his clothes, something that reminds him of his early childhood, when she was more or less sane, and always good to him, and for a moment, he thinks she won't really do it, that she'll just put fresh clothes on him, and kiss him goodnight, and that will be all. But then her hands are on forbidden places, and with a lurch, he realizes that this is really happening, and for the first time, wants to die.

However, things are not going along with his mother's plans. His body rejects her, and she manipulates him in frustration. "Don't be like that, Sesshoumaru-chan, please, love me, love me, I know you can, love me." There is a new sensation, and combined with her silence, and the fact that Midoriko has done this to him, he knows what it is, but he closes his eyes and digs his nails into his palms, focusing on the pain, anything but what his mother is doing to him.

"If you won't do things the easy way," she says at last, "we'll do it the hard way. And you will be hard for me." She presses her hands around his neck and chokes him, until his face changes color, and he responds the way she wants him to. And she takes him like that, her hands loosening and tightening around his neck, to control him, her power holding him still.

That was not the last time. For seven days, she kept him a slave to her madness, taking him when she chose, always the same way. Sesshoumaru did not speak one more word to her, and did his best to close out reality.

* * *

(The end is coming... Conclusion, in Part Three.)


	3. Life Eternal

Everything is waves and stars

The universe is resting in my arms.

-Nina Gordon

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On the seventh day, Midoriko dies.

And Sesshoumaru gets a visit from his father.

"Wife!" he demands. "What have you done?"

She licks her lips, and says nothing.

"Sesshoumaru. What has she done?"

Sesshoumaru, lying on the futon with his back turned, curls in tighter. "Everything."

There is silence, a moment.

"Do you want me to kill her?" Sesshoumaru's father says at last.

"She wasn't always like this," Sesshoumaru says dazed, watching his fingers curl and uncurl, fitting perfectly into the four wounds on his palm. "You drove her mad. Now you say you'll kill her. I don't know what I want."

"Come with me, son."

"No."

"Do you want to stay here forever?"

Sesshoumaru turns to look at his father, slowly, his golden eyes filled with hate. He gets up, a graceful, calculated movement, watching his powerful father, and silent, broken mother. She is always silent when Father is around, Sesshoumaru thinks. It is a stark contrast from the woman who tortured and humiliated him over the past week.

Sesshoumaru's father grabs him by the arm like a child, and drags him out, walking so briskly that Sesshoumaru trips, trying to keep up. But his father holds him so firmly that he does not fall, Sesshoumaru thinks that even if he stopped moving his legs, their pace would not slow.

It is not until they enter the cave that Sesshoumaru works his way free of his father's iron grip. His father still makes him walk first, so that he is guarding the only exit.

When he sees what awaits him, Sesshoumaru says nothing. He does not cry, he does not fall to his knees and mourn what was taken from them. He does not blink, either. He just stares at her, as if he could take her inside him, and keep her safe.

"You never should have disobeyed me, son."

"You don't even know what you have destroyed," Sesshoumaru says, very fine tremors going through him, as if his skin was vibrating.

Something stirs, making both of them look, it is the three monks and the miko. Inu-taishou gestures to them, and they file out, with him between them and Sesshoumaru. Sesshoumaru watches them, not daring to make a move in front of his father, but memorizing their faces, their scents, the pattern of their breaths and footsteps. He will find them again.

"She was just a human girl," Inu-taishou says. "An animal. The fleeting spark that moves them, that they call a soul, it is nothing compared to our demon spirit. Humans do not feel pain, or love. You imagined these things into her, I had to stop your folly before you created any more wretched half-breeds."

"Just a girl," Sesshoumaru repeats. "An animal. Yet you needed all this to kill her? You knew of her power, you didn't dare face her yourself. You played on the petty ambitions of those traitorous humans, and countless inferior demons, all looking for power, because you knew you couldn't take her. I'm _proud_ of her, Father."

"She lost. You lost. Don't forget that," his father says dangerously.

"No..." Sesshoumaru says, something strange coming over him. "I lost. But she—Where is her soul? She is newly dead, her wounds still bleed, but the creatures of the underworld do not haunt her. She is empty." He draws closer to her, riveted, climbs the ranks of demons, still sticky with blood, until he stands level with her. He touches her cheek affectionately, and lets his hand drop to the wound in her chest. "The ribs. This was made from within." He hesitates, and sees that the marks on her forehead are not wounds, they are too perfect. Unsure why, yet feeling it is the thing to do, he kisses them.

"You're disgusting," his father says scornfully. "It's hard to believe you're my son."

Sesshoumaru hears his father, but he hears another voice as well. "Protect her," it says.

"You have shown an inability to make your own choices," his father continues, "so I will make them for you. You will abandon this human charade, you will break off all contact with that whelp of yours, as well as any other villagers. If you defy me, she will be killed. You will be trained in the arts of war, and learn to be worthy of our heritage, because you are my sole heir. Do you understand me?"

Sesshoumaru looks into Midoriko's dead face, and feels a surge of envy. It would take a lot to kill him, he realizes, and his father would probably stop him. Besides, he has to somehow make sure Shinju is safe. He can't abandon her, and Midoriko is counting on him. "I understand you, Father. Now go away."

"Pardon, _son_?"

"You've taken everything else, let me be alone with my dead wife," he says bitterly.

"I didn't know you were married."

"Neither of us cared what other people thought. But together, we were husband and wife. Now leave us, unless you are afraid of a dead human."

To Sesshoumaru's surprise, his father leaves.

"Midoriko," Sesshoumaru says, as if they were sitting around at home, and everything was normal again, "we've both been through a lot, haven't we? I know you, so I know you're not that upset to be dead. You always acted like the rest of yourself was there, and you couldn't wait to be reunited with it. But I'm upset. You better not have given up easily, after all I did to keep you alive for so long." He glances at her severed arm, and scans around looking for the rest of it, but doesn't see it. Presumably it was eaten. He leans against her, she is cold, and getting hard, but he's gotten good at ignoring what he feels over the past week.

"I'm sorry. I know you fought hard. I just wish..." he trails off, knowing how useless it is to wish. He'd better stop that, or he'll become weak like his parents want. If you can't have it, don't wish for it. But he does wish. Unvoiced, unthought, he wishes.

"I remember when we first met. Actually, I'd been watching you for a while, did I tell you that? I don't know why. But even just watching you from afar seemed better to me than anything else I could be doing. I didn't know who you were, not really, you were always alone, and always killing demons. I made up a name for you, a new one every week or so, but none of them ever fit. I tried to imagine what you were like, what you'd been through in your life, what made you kill. I imagined us meeting, in my fantasies, you always tried to kill me, but then you fell in love with me.

"Then, after planning our meeting a dozen times over, you sneaked up on me. To this day, I don't know how you did it. I was completely off my guard, when I saw you, I thought I was going to die..." he trails off, feeling a heavy sleep pressing on him, it feels unnatural, but he's past caring, so he surrenders to it, secretly hoping never to wake up.

And there she is, like on the first day. Right down to the pimple on her left cheek, after all, she's only sixteen, though she holds her sword like an expert. And it's right to his chest, but he doesn't care, he's just happy to see her.

"You're beautiful," she says, astonished. "Are you a demon?"

And he's caught up in the memory now, so he does what he did then. "Yes," he says, in a terrified whisper. But he is looking at her unwavering, captivated by her.

She slides the sword up to his throat, so that she can come closer to him, holding him at the blade instead of the tip, without losing control of the situation.

"Are you a bad demon?" she asks almost wistfully.

"There's no other kind," he says, believing it.

She gives him that familiar look, half frown, half pout, and asks him, "Why be so honest with me?"

"It seems a better way to live."

"I agree," she says, and kisses him. It is an awkward kiss, both of them suddenly too conscious of the fact that they are touching, and unsure what to do next, but pleasant enough that they are willing to try it again.

When they pull apart, he is looking at her in bewilderment. "Do you kiss all the demons? Or just the pretty ones?"

"You're my first," she admits. He looks more confused than ever, so she says, "I was curious what it would be like to kiss you, so I tried it. You didn't seem to mind." Her sword now points at the ground, forgotten.

"I didn't mind anything you ever did, except the last one," Sesshoumaru says, suddenly very present.

Midoriko, sixteen year old Midoriko, who has mild acne, and has never been pregnant, looks up at him with her young, pretty face, and says, "I always thought I'd die, you know. I was ready for it. The pain, and whatever comes after, hell, godhood, reincarnation, even haunting everyone as a ghost forever, I was ready, I could take it. But I don't like this, Sesshoumaru. I don't want to fight forever. There has to be an end."

"It seems there is no escape for either of us," Sesshoumaru says, the full impact hitting him. They both have forever, apart, tortured.

"No escape," Midoriko says, "but this." She kisses him again, and it is very different from the kiss of a moment before, this one is tempered with experience and longing. She feels solid and real to him, but he notices that time is moving oddly, sometimes a lot of things seem to happen at once, and sometimes a small moment takes forever. This is one of the latter, a kiss that is not unusually long, but seems to fill a vast amount of time.

Neither is content with just kissing, and in a glitch of time, they have unclothed each other, and the background has receded, blurred to unimportance. They try to cross the gap between them, which, even crushed and tangled in each other, they know is impossible.

"It took me three days last time," he says. "After our first kiss."

"We don't have that long," Midoriko says sadly, "or I would relive it all with you." She's still herself at sixteen, but he notices the four tiny marks are on her forehead again. He brushes his lips over them, absently.

"All these years," she says, "I was four people, and didn't know it. Aramitama, soul of courage and untamed strength,"

"I've seen that," Sesshoumaru says, feeling her muscled thighs.

"Sakimitama, soul of love and happiness."

"Like this?" he asks, tenderly.

"Exactly like this," she answers, crying.

"What else was inside you, all this time?"

"Nigimitama, soul of harmony and friendship, the heart." She smiles through her tears. "Not that life allowed me much harmony or friendship."

"You brought it to others, sometimes. What's the last one?"

"Kushimitama. Soul of power, mystery, and wisdom."

"So they were always fighting inside you?"

"No," she says distantly, "not fighting, I think they worked together a lot, but they always said different things, and confused me. Because I was like that, I cried a lot, but I think I was happy, too." They kiss for a long while, and at length she says, "I'll miss being happy."

Sesshoumaru knows that he will, too. He wonders, even in her arms, if he could ever be happy without her, but he can't imagine it. So he is almost reluctant to take the next moments, because once he does, they'll be gone, and there will never be anything worth feeling ever again.

They make love in silence, even Midoriko holding in her screams, selfishly, not wanting to release anything, but keep it all, hold it within themselves to look back on forever.

Afterwards, Sesshoumaru feels himself not falling asleep, but waking up. He fights it, knowing it to be in vain.

Midoriko lies there, watching him with her sad eyes, seeming old and young at once, and for the first time, there is no fight in her. When he thinks back on her later, this is how he remembers her most, and he feels so guilty for it.

He wakes up, covered in her cold blood, which is still dripping slowly.

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Sesshoumaru has goals. To watch over his daughter, without getting her killed. To kill his father's human accomplices, as a matter of revenge. To never be alone with his mother again. To not let his father win, not in the end.

To be strong. That's the clincher. Strength is at the heart of all his battles. And strength to him means not needing anything. Maybe it's too late for that. But it means being complete in solitude, never showing your heart.

He tries. But he slips sometimes. That's where his other goals come in.

Shinju doesn't understand. Her parents are gone, she's homeless and mistreated. Well, never mistreated for long. People who are cruel to her have a habit of dying, and she has alibis. Rumor spreads that there is a curse on any who mistreat her, which does earn her some kindness, however reluctant. Perhaps it has saved her life.

She doesn't know anything, but she suspects. She finds silver hairs sometimes, caught on branches, or on the sides of huts. When she holds them to her head for comparison, they are longer than hers.

But she still must grow up thinking she is named pearl because of her hair, and not because she was loved.

It doesn't take her long to find her mother. The cave seems welcoming to her, in her many small exiles. Her mother's body gives her a sort of morbid comfort, despite the reminder of her death, she thinks she can feel her presence, here. She talks to her mother sometimes, and fancies that her mother listens, cares, even answers, or wants to answer. The other kids mock her for this, but they would mock her anyway. Their parents encourage it.

Shinju is not the only one to visit Midoriko. Sesshoumaru comes sometimes, slipping in like the otherworldly thing he is, and saying nothing. He expects her to speak first. She never does. He sleeps there sometimes, but does not dream of her. He promises her revenge sometimes, and fancies she smiles, even though she hasn't moved since her death.

He does find the monks. Sitting around a campfire, unsuspecting, alive. He slaughters them, just like the animals his father would say they are. The first one he decapitates, on his way to the second one, who he pushes into the fire, reaching the third, the leader. He slices him from throat to groin, and lets him bleed, as the screams of the burning one die out. That leaves only the girl.

She is wearing the usual miko garb, which is like Midoriko's. There however, the similarity ends. She is weak, her scent repulses him, and her pretty face is marred with her cowardly expression. She has no idea what it really means to fight to the death, what you invoke when you kill someone. He is ashamed for this girl.

"Please," she begs, "They made me do it, it was all Daichi's idea, I had no say in anything, I was just—"

"Their slave?" Sesshoumaru offers.

"Yes," she breathes, closing her eyes in gratitude.

"Did you like being their slave? Having no say in _anything_?" And he knows she gave them everything she had, he can smell it on her.

"No," she says bitterly, "but what kind of choice did I have? They had power, the more power than I could hope for, I was just lucky enough to have enough of a shadow of a miko's power to make them accept me. I didn't have anything against your wife, but I had to save myself by any means I could. You don't know what it's like, to have so few choices." A pause. "Are you going to kill me?"

"It's what I came here to do," Sesshoumaru says, the blood still dripping off his hands.

"Take two lives with one blow," she says, with some satisfaction. She wasn't pleased about being pregnant when she found out, but hopes it may save her life, now.

"You think I will show you mercy, so that the child of that scum can live? If anything, it is more of a reason to kill you."

"No," she says steadily, "I think you will show me mercy, so that you do not become the sort of man who kills a helpless pregnant woman in cold blood."

Sesshoumaru wants her dead. In his mind, she deserves to die. But he does not want to be the one to kill her. His karma is already too heavy. He knows that whichever choice he makes he will regret it, that there is simply no winning with this one.

He walks away. And he does regret it, for a very long time. Perhaps he is harder on other people, later, to make up for it. People who deserve it less. There is no such thing as a good deed.

Shinju grows up. This is perhaps the most final thing in Sesshoumaru's life, knowing that his child has grown up, and he has missed a great deal of it. Even more than life, this can never be reclaimed.

She has very little spiritual power. It seems that the energies of her parents have cancelled out in her. She has neither the sheer strength of purity of her mother, nor the demon might of her father. What she does have is intelligence, and a great deal of brute strength. Without guidance, she uses both unwisely. Trouble seems to follow her. She leaves the village for a while, but is treated worse in other places, where people don't even fear her, so she comes back.

However, her heritage brings her more than intolerance and fear. Sesshoumaru's heart goes out to her when he hears her howl.

Her dog-demon blood claims her heart twice a year. She goes into heat.

Hated or not, she has little trouble finding partners when the need arises. Samurai snatched off their horses, teenage boys full of curiosity, old men who see little but her smooth young skin, she takes all of them, and feels used and violated afterwards.

But she still loves her children. She has many of them, one every year or two, she gives them the names of precious jewels, but forgets them often, or calls one name when she means another. The children confuse her further by naming the ever-faithful firecat Kirara, (mica) and fake offence when she calls a child that by accident.

And Midoriko? Well, she becomes legend. People say bad things at first, but Shinju tells the truth to her children, embellished some by love and memory, and it is their version that prevails over time.

Sesshoumaru stops watching over his family, after a while. He sees his Shinju getting older, telling her laughing children that she should have just named them after numbers, and saved herself the confusion, and realizes that there is nothing he can do for them anymore. Their world is not his. He fights the impulse to just show up in the midst of them, and be greeted with hugs and tears by Shinju, who he is sure would recognize him after all these years, resists it because he knows his father has not forgotten. He would bring death to these people. So he leaves them to their world, and he thinks his father hasn't won yet.

He has learned of a jewel. The more he hears, the more he thinks he knows where it came from. He pursues it at first, but then he starts to hear stories of what it does to demons. How it changes them beyond repair, makes them senseless and ugly. He knows then that it isn't Midoriko, only her strength perverted. It changes hands, coming to increasingly powerful demons, glowing red with their hate and tortured hopes.

Sesshoumaru lives, doing the minimum for his father to avoid his wrath, and avoiding his mother at all costs. After a long time, his father kills her. It was not unexpected, but what Sesshoumaru did not see coming was his own reaction. He saw his mother as being the same as him, kept helpless and deprived of love until they went mad and died. He resents his father deeply, despite the respect he grudgingly gave him over the years. And his mother, who he hated for what she did, he cried for. It was the last time he ever cried.

The Inu-taishou himself, however, does not stay without love for long. His interest is piqued by a pretty, meek little human girl. He spends time with her, seduces her, and, in a final blow to Sesshoumaru, marries her. Sesshoumaru knows that his father likes to feel needed, strong, likes to isolate people and make them depend on him. But he is furious with his father not just for that, but for taking a human bride after everything he had done to Midoriko.

Touga goes through a kind of second childhood with Izayoi, his human bride. She makes him feel young and vital, and surprisingly, guilty. For the first time, he understands what he has taken from his son. For Sesshoumaru, it is too little, too late, and he does not forgive his father, even when he dies in an act of repentance, saving Izayoi and their hanyou son.

It is Sesshoumaru's only victory, and it is empty.

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Before he died, Touga made two swords, to try to right the wrongs of his life. One, a killing sword, to cut back anything that might threaten the new future he was making. The other, a sort of apology for Sesshoumaru, a sword that could bring back the dead. But Midoriko is too long gone, and her soul crystallized with the souls of too many demons. The sword is useless, it is an insult, and he hates it.

Still, he keeps it in his sash, out of some hope he won't even admit to himself.

His father tells him some day he may find a use for it. Sesshoumaru glares at him, his silence saying everything.

Now that his father is dead, Sesshoumaru wonders, in a detached sort of way, if he is free.

But deep down, he suspects it has been too long for him. His descendants are proud taijiya, forgetting the demon blood in them, which shows itself only in uncommon strength. He realizes that he should fear them, but doesn't.

They reclaim the jewel at last, which is their matriarch, though they don't fully know that. Like him, Midoriko is tainted, they are both altered by the cruelty of time, both of them are now too evil to be touched. It saddens him, as much as anything does these days. After several hundred years, he has learned to accept a lot.

The jewel is given to a miko in a distant village. She protects the jewel, heals it, respects it. She does the same to Sesshoumaru's half-brother. Sesshoumaru watches with a sort of longing, but is not really surprised when their love falls apart, and his half-brother ends up sealed to a sacred tree, with the miko dead.

"That's just the way the world works," Sesshoumaru tells his unfortunate sibling, who as usual, doesn't answer. He pulls dead leaves from his brother's hair, which has become matted and unkempt. Not that it was ever particularly kempt to begin with.

What really impressed him was that the miko managed to take the jewel out of the world. Without knowing her, he is oddly grateful to her for this. And thinking that Inuyasha must have been some wretch to kill her. What kind of man turns on his mate that way, and such a kind, strong, spiritually beautiful woman, no less? He turns from Inuyasha in disgust, and does not come back.

Despite his impressive age, Kikyou has taught him things. That it is possible to heal, and find happiness, that there can be an end to suffering, and that in the end, some jerk always comes along and starts the death and pain all over again.

When a new miko comes along, and frees Inuyasha, Sesshoumaru has been thinking. His hands play on Tenseiga's hilt, and he wants to fulfil his name. He's through with hope and life, and wants to embody death now, there's a finality in that that's almost kind. So, with a glance at the minion he's barely noticed for a great many years, he sets off to claim his sword, the one that should have been his, and beat his father's mind games once and for all.

But that's not all. The jewel is back in the world. It creeps on the edge of his consciousness, like a steady pain goading him to madness.

Inuyasha, despite his understandable bitterness, is all about life now, conveniently forgetting, Sesshoumaru thinks, the first miko, who he killed. Now he's all protection and righteousness and butterflies, thinking well of the father he never knew.

Sesshoumaru, while not completely against the idea, did not go there with the intention of killing his brother. But he fights with the ferocity of one who has seen hell, who thinks nothing of pain, like someone who is already dead, and therefore, fears nothing, and has no mercy for the dying.

Inuyasha thinks he is fighting for his life. Perhaps this is justified, perhaps not. He slices through Sesshoumaru's left arm, and drives him away from his father's tomb.

Sesshoumaru accepts this without complaint, or even resentment. He accepted possibilities like this before going into battle. He fought anyway because he didn't really care. This wound is the shallowest, and troubles him little. He looks at the oozing stump, and should feel horror, repulsion, anything, but nothing comes. Without bothering to bandage it, he continues. On through time, on through life, just like the jewel, without hope of escape.

s

p

a

c

e

One day he finds a girl.

Or more accurately, she finds him. He is sullen and defeated, but vaguely he can remember when his daughter was that size. And then his grandchildren, and his great-grandchildren—no. He won't go down memory lane, not today. So she is just a girl, human through and through.

She offers him things he doesn't need. Food, water, herself. He is too strong to consider any of them. He is a solitary jewel, fighting inner demons for eternity. But then she does something that makes him remember his heart.

She dies.

There are marks on her pretty little corpse that were not made by wolves. Like Midoriko, like Shinju, she is an orphan, _was_ an orphan, he corrects, she is nothing but wolf leftovers, now.

He hasn't forgiven his father. He still refuses to understand him. But his father is _dead_, and he's won anyway, so Sesshoumaru draws Tenseiga, feeling confused yet determined. This isn't about him, or his parents, or his redemption, or even about Midoriko, this is just about one little girl that was killed by wolves. He brings the child back, and she doesn't know what kind of world he's brought her into, or what pain he bears, but she follows him willingly just the same, giving her trust the way only a child can.

So the days pass easier. He feels almost alive, sometimes, other times, he thinks the problem is life, life is what he wants to get away from. The jewel is shattered, light touching it in places kept secret for hundreds of years, pieces of Midoriko's soul influenced by many agendas and desires, and he feels some of that hope and confusion. Different wills seem to be working inside him, but he takes his time with them, he has nothing if not time.

One day he meets the wind. She is passionate and impulsive, but she is a slave to her evil father, like he was for so many years. He feels some sympathy towards her, but at the same time, is not at all eager to go down that road again. Her problems are hers and hers alone, he will not be dragged into them.

She offers him a shard of the Shikon jewel. His heart races, seeing this disrespectful young punk, not knowing what the jewel is, or the price that was paid for it, but seeing it only as power. The only power she is ever likely to have. He declines politely, or what passes for polite with him. He doubts this girl will know the difference anyway.

He doesn't watch to see what happens to her.

But the sight of the jewel sparks something in him.

So that night, he meets a girl.

She is sixteen, forever. And she is eleven years younger than him. "Do you regret it?" she asks.

"Not taking the shard?"

She laughs, it is inappropriate, but he enjoys it. "No, silly. Us."

He thinks a moment, and chooses his words carefully. "I don't think it's possible to regret something you never had a choice in."

"Should I be offended?" she asks, her voice lilting.

"No," he says sullenly. Neither says anything for a moment, then he asks, "What makes you so cheerful?"

"Oh, I'm not cheerful," she says, "I'm not much of anything. It's over for us, you know?" She still _sounds_ cheerful. "But being with you again, it's nice."

"It is," Sesshoumaru admits coldly.

Midoriko pulls him gently to the ground with her, which looks and feels like grass, but smells like a cave. She leans up against him gently. Sesshoumaru puts his arm around her, knowing that it's a dream, but it's a _good_ dream, and in a way, this might really be Midoriko. They say nothing, it seems that words have become moot, and events are past their control.

Death takes much, but life gives precious little, even if it lasts forever. Even a dream is something, if you've lived long enough to be a legend.


End file.
